


Your Shopping List Is Not My Shopping List

by grootmorning



Series: Domestic Assassins for Hire [2]
Category: Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Barton is basically a kid, Domesticity, F/M, Fluff, Grocery Shopping, married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-16 19:07:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4636842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grootmorning/pseuds/grootmorning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Natasha's opinion, taking her husband grocery shopping is more difficult than storming a twenty man barrack single handedly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Shopping List Is Not My Shopping List

Clint waved at their neighbours, thanking them for clearing the old newspapers off their lawn even as Natasha struggled to open their front door with all the bags hanging off their shoulder. 

"Barton, get over here," she gritted her teeth. "Stop playing suburban husband."

He rolled his eyes but obliged, hoisting one of her bags over his shoulders to join his two. "Just drop the bag, Nat. The guns won't break."

"These are my favourite guns, and my knives are in there too," Natasha grunted appreciatively as the door finally opened and they stepped into their house after a month away. "What did we tell the neighbours about this trip again?"

Clint kicked the door shut and dropped the bags on the ground, ignoring the resulting thumps and sounds as all their equipment shifted inside. "We went on our second honeymoon to the Bahamas or something, I believe."

"No we said Bahamas the last time, I think this time we said Africa," Natasha moved around the living room, quickly drawing the curtains and opening the windows wide to get the air circulation going in the stuffy house. Clint shrugged, his memory had never been fantastic.

She smacked him as she entered their kitchen, and he retaliated by patting her butt as she went by. Natasha yelped before glaring at him, "Make yourself useful and help me clear the fridge."

The routine was familiar to them by now. After spending a lengthy period of time away from home on their missions, they always had a check list they went through upon coming home.

_1\. Air the house_

Check.

_2\. Check the house security_

Natasha was already making her way upstairs, patting her hip to make sure that her favourite knife was still sheathed and ready for throwing.

_3\. Clear the fridge_

Apparently, it was Clint's job this time. He sighed. It was usually unpleasant, depending on how many perishables they had forgotten to clear out before they went off on the recent mission to assassinate a mob boss. Of course, they didn't expect it to take this long too. The security team had been upgraded far above what they were told.

At least the freezer had some food, they wouldn't starve. Maybe. Taking out the milk carton, Clint had barely cracked the top open before he was gagging and tossing it into one of the large trash bags they reserved for occasions like these; and body disposals. The eggs were not even checked. Into the trash bag they went. Eight eggs, Clint counted mournfully. That was enough breakfast for two for two days. Damn the yakuza.

Natasha slid an arm around his waist as she entered, making him wiggle a little as she jabbed at a sensitive spot. She sniggered a bit as she peeked into the bottom half of the fridge that Clint hadn't gotten to yet. Taking out a container, she opened the lid before yelping and dropping it immediately. It was a miracle that it went into the trash bag at all as Natasha had failed to secure the lid again and the contents came spilling out into the bag.

Clint looked incredulously on and Natasha shuddered, "Don't even ask what that was."

When the ordeal was over, their fridge was left with frozen waffles, one sad onion and butter. Natasha pressed a kiss to his temple as she grabbed the keys. "Come on Barton, let's go grocery shopping."

_\---_

Natasha could honestly say that she would rather face down an armoured tank backed by twenty well-trained assassins than taking her husband grocery shopping. She sighed as she put some fruits into her cart, pretending not to see as Clint went flying by the aisle she was in, balancing on one leg on the grocery cart. 

She would be happy if she could get home with at least half a trunk full of actual food that was healthy instead of junk.

One time, she sent Clint grocery shopping on his own as she was down with stomach flu. Apparently, handing him exact change and a very specific grocery list (with brand name and quantity specified) was not enough. Clint had bought the first three items on the list and proceeded to bring back an assortment of chips, frozen food and a brand new coffee machine.

"Hey Nat," Clint popped up from behind a display of biscuits. "Look they got a special Ethiopian blend in, and our old favourite, the Venezian roast."

Natasha compared the prices on two milk cartons before finally deciding on one. "You get one coffee choice, Clint. We discussed this earlier."

"Aw, no." Clint pouted sadly but Natasha simply put the carton in her cart before walking off. You never could argue with Natasha's poker face. 

It wasn't until Natasha was almost done with the items on her list that she realised she hadn't heard from Clint in twenty minutes. Sighing, she made a mental note to remember to pick up some fruits before heading over to the frozen food section.

As expected, Clint was looking forlornly into the section containing frozen pizza. Drumming her fingers on her hip, Natasha sighed again before letting go of her cart and wrapping her arms around his waist, perching her chin on his shoulder. A hand with fingers cold from touching the glass rested on hers and patted her gently.

"Clint," Natasha began. "You can get two pizzas, okay?"

Clint turned in her arms, leaving her blinking as she had to straighten and look up at him. He raised his hands slowly and cupped her chin, leaning in to kiss her warmly as she melted into his arms. This was ridiculous. She could disarm a man with a hand tied behind her back, yet she was like a marshmallow whenever Clint touched her. Pressing another small kiss to her forehead, Clint looked into her eyes.

"Thank you," he said earnestly.

Natasha laughed so hard she had to sit down on the cold tiled floor and watched as Clint got the pizzas he wanted and pushed her cart to the self-checkout station, grabbing two chocolate bars along the way.

She shook her head as she calmed down enough to get up, reaching him just as he was bagging everything, giving her a sheepish grin as she eyed the items not on her list.

"I'll do chores this week?" He offered.

Natasha sniffed. "And the next."

Clint's grin grew as he slung an arm around her shoulders, tugging her close. "You do love me."

"You're lucky, cause I'm the only one who will."

"Hey!"

Natasha straightened up and punched him hard in the arm.

"Ow! Nat, what the hell?!"

"You bastard, I forgot the fruits."

"Aw it's okay, Nat. Look, I got three pizzas! Nat? Nat! Nat wait!"

 

**Author's Note:**

> Assassins have lives too ^^ If you have any ideas for a domestic situation you want our favourite assassins in, drop a comment below and I'll consider it :)


End file.
